


Please

by pippen2112



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (Sorry Molly), Begging, Brief Referenced Dysphoria (blink and you'll miss it), Canonical Character Death, Communication, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Dysphoria, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Kink Exploration, Lingerie, M/M, Male-coded pronouns for AFAB genetalia, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Purring, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: Scoffing at himself, Fjord tears off his armor with numb fingertips. He needs to get the too-damn-soft underthings off.That’s what you get, taking advice from a dead man, a part of his mind thinks meanly. He instantly regrets the thought, but it spurs him on, too late to stop as he rips off his shirt and kicks off his boots and leggings and finally gets down to the godsdamned wine red satin that made him feel special. Strong. That got him into this whole mess in the first place.He’s fumbling for the clasp, arms straining behind his back, when a familiar voice speaks up, “This is, uh, not at all what I expected.”Fjord freezes, his blood rushing to his face as he slowly cranes to look at the door. And standing there, in his usual drab coat and scarf, is Caleb, eyes wide as saucers and mouth tipped open.Of all the times to forget to lock the door.
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast, implied Fjord/Molly
Comments: 25
Kudos: 294





	Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GrannyBoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/gifts), [AgentBuzzkill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentBuzzkill/gifts).



> Happy Thanksgiving y'all! In the spirit of thankfulness and gratitude, I have a lot of people I want to thank for this fic's existence. Huge thanks to Oaky and Erin and everyone on the Widofjord Discord for sparking this idea and keeping me motivated to write. To the fine folks on the tweeters who inspired me to write Fjord and Caleb as trans men for this one. To the After Dark discord for cheering me on. And to FatedFeathers and FailFaster for offering to beta read for me. Without y'all this fic would still be moldering in my WIP file. 
> 
> I tagged this as best I could, but if I missed anything crucial, please let me know!
> 
> Edit: modified the tags because the Major Character Death scared some folks unnecessarily. This fic deals with Molly's death and Fjord's feelings/recovery thereafter.

Face flushed and eyes stinging, Fjord races back to his room at the Lavish Chateau, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before he starts tearing off his clothes. Every time he moves, he feels the undergarments sliding against his skin, teasing and sensual and everything he doesn’t deserve right now. Gods, how could be have been so stupid? What was he thinking? That just because he felt an ounce of confidence that he had a shot with someone smart and strong and beautiful? Stupid. Ridiculous.

Scoffing at himself, he unbuckles his armor with numb fingertips. He needs to get the too-damn-soft underthings off. _That’s what you get, taking advice from a dead man_ , a part of his mind thinks meanly. He instantly regrets the thought, but it spurs him on, too late to stop as he rips off his shirt and kicks off his boots and leggings and finally gets down to the godsdamned wine red satin that made him feel special. Strong. That got him into this whole mess in the first place.

He’s fumbling for the clasp, arms straining behind his back, when a familiar voice speaks up, “This is, uh, not at all what I expected.”

Fjord freezes, his blood rushing to his face as he slowly cranes to look at the door. And standing there, in his usual drab coat and scarf, is Caleb, eyes wide as saucers and mouth tipped open.

_Of all the times to forget to lock the door._

#

“Gods, Molls! You couldn’t’ve locked the door?” he yelps, throwing an arm over his eyes and hurriedly closing the inn door behind him.

Molly chuckles. “Something the matter, Fjord?”

Cheeks burning, he stares at the ceiling and crosses to the empty bed, bashing his shin into one of the bedposts. Fjord swallows a grunt, drops his pack onto the bed, and sets about unbuckling his armor. “Well, for one thing, you’re naked.”

“Am not, but I can be. Quite easily, if you’d like.”

He freezes mid-action, his face flushing hotter and hotter as he processes those simple, stupid words. Suddenly, he feels much too big for his skin, his hands numb and non-responsive. Gods, he’s not used to finding himself speechless. It must be traveling with a new group of people, being surrounded by so many people he can’t predict.

When the silence stretches out for a tense minutes, Molly hums, considering. “Does a man in lacy underthings offend your sensibilities?” he asks, a sharpness cutting through his would-be casual tone.

“No!” Fjord jerks around instinctively, turning to face his new roommate and getting an eyeful of golden lace before he snaps his gaze back to the ceiling. If he wasn’t already flushed a dark ruddy brown, he certainly is now. He sighs. “Look, Molly, you can do what you please—gods knows I’m not fool enough to try and stop you—but maybe put a sock on the knob to warn a fellow?”

“But the shock value is more than half the fun.” Fjord doesn’t respond, but he hears the faint creek of the floorboards before a warm hand lands on his shoulder, another gently cupping his chin and urging him to look down. “At least do me the respect of checking out the goods before you turn me down.”

It sounds so reasonable when he puts it like that. Fjord takes a deep breath, holds it in for a moment, and prays that if this is some bizarre dream that something will drag him back to consciousness. When no such miracle occurs, he exhales slowly and looks. And he can’t lie, the pale gold is a lovely contrast to Molly’s lavender skin. The lacy top clings to his scarred, lean chest, accentuating the spray of tattoos spiralling up his arms and sides. The neckline plunges deep—which might explain why Fjord never noticed any lace peeking through the collar of Molly’s lowcut shirts—and the same material wraps around his hips and moulds tight over his—

He chokes on his tongue and looks back to Molly’s casual smirk and unreadable red eyes. “So? What do you think?”

“I, uh…. You… I just…” Fjord stammers, scrambling for words but they’re long lost to him. He scrubs a hand up the back of his neck, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him.

“Yes, Fjord?”

His ears tuck back against his head, the tips hot against his scalp. And he suddenly regrets offering to share his room with Molly. “I dunno what you want me to say.”

“Oh, bless you, you’re adorable,” Molly says, amusement bright in his voice as he pats Fjord’s cheek.

Without another word, Molly turns on heel and sashays back to his own bed, his fingers picking at the lacing up the sides of his chemise and loosening the garment. As he twists and eases the delicate fabric over his head, not once snagging it on his horns or jewelry, Fjord drops heavily onto the edge of his bed, too awed to look away. It’s impressive to say the least, the way Molly moves, not making a show of undressing but showing off nonetheless. Before he even realizes it, Molly is naked, folding up his undergarments and tucking them into his pack. “You don’t have to keep staring if you’re uncomfortable.”

Blinking, Fjord drags his jaw off the floor and ducks his head. If his hand comes away damp when he wipes the corner of his mouth, well, no one but him has to know. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize if you’re enjoying the show,” Molly says as he hops onto his bed laying his coat across his lap before laying his swords across it. “But you’ve got that flushed-face look of a man discovering something about himself he’s not particularly comfortable with.”

He’s not exactly wrong, Fjord reasons, leaning forward and bracing his arms against his knees. “Just seems strange to wear something so fine if no one’s going to see it.” After all, they’ve been running around Trostenwald investigating for the last few days. That doesn’t leave much time for canoodling. 

Laughing gently, Molly begins his routine of praying over his swords. “I don’t wear my finery for others to see me in them. I wear them because life’s short and they make me happy. They fill me up and make facing the day a little more bearable.”

Fjord nods, trying to wrap his mind around the concept, but he can’t quite grasp it no matter what angle he approaches it from. Brow furrowed, he plays with the hem of his shirt, and he can only ask the most obvious question. “‘They?’ As in you have more?” 

Peeking up through his lashes, Molly shooks him a wicked grin. “Oh, yes.”

#

After that, Fjord can’t help noticing flashes of lace and satin and color whenever he’s around Molly. Glossy reds and demure pinks and silken blacks. On the few nights they spend at the Leaky Tap, Molly will strip and strike a pose, a daring gleam in his eyes. Some nights, he’ll even take Fjord’s hand and press it to the fabric and ask what he thinks of the texture. Every time, Fjord swallows his tongue and babbles out an answer and rushes off to bed, wet and aching. Some nights, long after Molly’s gentle snores fill the room, Fjord will toss and turn and wonder, what ifs and maybes echoing through his head. The possibilities overwhelm.

_Maybe tomorrow I’ll get up the guts to say something._

But then the Iron Shepherds take him and Jester and Yasha in the night outside of Hupperdook. Through the haze of rage and fear, he hears a growled “Am I going to have to make a lesson here?” and familiar voices screaming and a stranger’s plea. 

And then nothing.

Later, he’s dragged into a dirty cell and left with Jester’s tearful singing and Yasha’s pain-stricken silence and the clattering of chains that can’t drown out the terror in his heart. That his friends were left in a bloody smear on the roadside. That if they survived, the remnants of the Mighty Nein won’t come for them. That if they do, he and Jester and Yasha will be too broken to be worth saving.

And then the sounds of fighting fill the compound. And the doors of his cell are wrenched free, and familiar soot-stained hands cup his cheeks and whisper quiet words of comfort as Nott unlocks his collar and shackles. And they’re safe. Saved. But… Fjord does his best not to think about the wounded firbolg cleric who has found a new family with the Mighty Nein, or to notice Molly’s absence.

He follows the group up to the ground floor of the Sour Nest, goes through the motions of accepting Summer’s Dance, helps Caduceus with dinner and marvels as Caleb casts the hut, a safe haven for nights spent on the road.

And late that night, as he’s moving his few possessions from his ratty pack into the newfound Bag of Holding, he finds a paper-wrapped bundle in his satchel, tied with twine and with a card tucked into the bindings. Across the card in fine script, he reads “For the days your swagger needs a kick in the pants.” Brow furrowed, he tears open a corner of the parcel, catches a glimpse of glossy, wine-red fabric, and all at once, his chest constricts around a sob. 

With shaking hands, he balls up the package and shoves it deep into the Bag of Holding, but it does little to stem the tears burning behind his eyes. The bone-deep pang of loss.

“Fjord?” he hears Caleb’s softly accented words through the darkness.

He sniffles and turns his face away. Not that Caleb can see him, but it reassures him nonetheless. “‘M okay. Just tired.”

A beat of silence. Two. Then a calloused hand takes his wrist and gently squeezes. “Then rest. Take all the time you need.”

Caleb doesn’t move his hand as Fjord lays down to sleep, and Fjord turns his hand upside down to hold him back. He finally drifts off feeling Caleb’s pulse fluttering against his fingertips. 

#

It’s a very long time before Fjord fully unwraps Molly’s gift. He considers it briefly on his solo trip south, on a quiet night cooped up in an inn all by himself. Without the rest of the Nein around, there’s no chance of his friends walking in on him in a scandalous state, but he’s still too raw to go through with it. One of the nights they stay at the Lavish Chateau, Fjord gets as far as reaching into the Bag of Holding and summoning the parcel to hand, but just a glimpse of the note card with Molly’s parting words leaves him quaking.

Only when they’re leaving Darktow, the chaos of the docks still ringing in his mind hours after sunset, does he follow through with opening the package. A thousand and one worries swarm through his thoughts—the gut-wrenching terror of not knowing if Jester and Beau made it to the Plank King, of seeing Caleb fall unconscious mid-fight, of the cold betrayal in Avantika’s eyes. It’s all too much to bear.

In the quiet of the Captain’s quarters, as soon as the late Captain’s belongings have been disposed of, Fjord sits at the edge of the now-stripped bed and draws the package out of the Bag of Holding. He’s tired, a tremor wracking through him, but he can excuse it as exhaustion instead of sorrow. Too weary to delay, he rips open the paper and comes face to face with Molly’s gift.

The cloth is beautiful wine-red satin, silky against his fingertips when he touches it, careful of his claws. “ _For the days your swagger needs a kick in the pants._ ” He doesn’t think those words could be any truer.

He holds the top against his chest, gauging the fit briefly before he strips out of his clothes, undoes his bindings, and puts on the lingerie. No hesitation—not after the week they’ve had. The bra is strappy and snug against his chest, though he feels like one wrong moves will bust a seam. The panties are tight, clinging to his hips, ass, and groin. There’s a mess of straps he can only assume is a garter belt and a pair of fine silk stockings, but he leaves those aside—with the state of his nerves, he’d poke them full of holes if he tried them on now.

Fjord stands tall in the middle of the Captain’s quarters, squirming to find a comfortable position but the garments are cut so much tighter than he’s used to, the material so much softer than anything he’s ever worn. He splays a hand across his waist, trailing a thumb across one of the cups and down to his satin-clad hip. A shiver runs down his spine, and something deep inside him twinges with want. With need.

Face flushed, he strips out of the undergarments, pointedly ignoring the spot of wetness in the panties. He wraps them back in the paper, tucks them away, and dresses for bed. Climbing onto the bed with his travel blanket wrapped around him, he squeezes his eyes shut and ignores his cock throbbing. Ignores the slow trickle between his legs. 

If he could guarantee a half-hour of privacy, maybe he would’ve left the lingerie on and relished the fine fabric against his skin and teased himself into release. But he’s the captain now; he doesn’t have the time for such diversions. 

But the lingerie set never strays from his thoughts. 

#

When they finally get back to Nicodranas, Fjord excuses himself for the evening and digs out the lingerie once more. With four solid walls and a locked door between himself and the outside world, he crawls into bed, a nervous shiver racing down his spine, but it can’t compete with the haze of exhaustion and relief settling in around him. 

One moment, Fjord’s eyes are closed as he teases between his legs, the next Beau is pounding at his door, shouting “Wake up, Cap’n! We gotta see a wizard about a tower!” 

Groaning, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and pulls on his clothes and armor in a haze. He’s halfway downstairs when the panties ride up, reminding him that he passed out before he got to enjoy them properly. That he flat out forgot to take them off too. But they’re late enough as is, so he sighs and continues on downstairs.

“Everything okay, Mr. Fjord?” Caduceus asks as they make their way through the sleepy streets through the Open Quay. 

He jumps halfway out of his skin at the sudden question, scrubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “Sure. Do I seem… not okay?”

Caduceus shrugs, breaking his gaze from Fjord’s as they walk. “You seem a little jumpier than usual. And you’ve been a little more withdrawn over the last couple weeks.”

Nodding slowly, he replies, “I never knew how stressful it would be, being a captain. It took more out of me than I realized.” He closes his hand into a fist at his side, almost feeling the falchion’s hilt against his palm and the prickle of magic against his skin. “I can only hope it was worth it.”

“Only time will tell,” Caduceus says before letting the conversation lapse.

Miraculously, their meeting with the mage in Tidepeak tower goes well. Beau and Caduceus earn them a new ally, and Caleb even gets a quiet one-on-one with Yussah. On the way back to the Lavish Chateau, Caleb is flush-faced as the Mighty Nein ask an unending stream of questions about his conversation and Nott showers him with compliments. 

Before they head into the bar, Fjord spies Caleb lingering to the back of the group and takes him aside. “You did a good job,” he says quietly, clapping Caleb on the shoulder and letting his hand linger. 

Caleb goes still and quiet, his hands playing with the sleeves of his coat. “I wouldn’t oversell it. I looked at a sigil on the ground. I won’t even be able to make use of it for a while.”

Fjord frowns. “Even so, you’ll be able to use it sooner than any of us. And you’re probably the only one of us who can keep up when and if the mage starts talking magic. Beau and Caduceus got us in the door, but you’re the one who kept it open. Don’t sell yourself short.”

A blush rises on Caleb’s cheeks. He ducks his head and the corner of his mouth twitches up into a shadow of a smile. “ _Dankeschön_.”

Warmth and want swells in Fjord’s chest. Maybe it’s the high of success lifting his spirits. Maybe it’s coming off of a grueling journey of self-discovery and coming back with as many questions as answers. Hell, maybe it’s the lingerie making him stand a little taller and grin a little broader in turn. Whatever it is, Fjord squeezes Caleb’s shoulder and asks quietly and earnestly, “Can I buy you a drink?” 

Caleb glances up at him, brow furrowed as he glances toward the bar where the rest of the Mighty Nein are already fighting patrons for a table. “That was the plan, _ja_?”

And in five simple words, Fjord deflates. He does his best not to droop physically, to keep up his facade, but he feels his ears folding close to his head. _Stupid._ “Right,” he says, letting his hand fall from Caleb’s shoulder. “Yeah, here,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of gold, not bothering to count it. “First round’s on me. Go on ahead, I’ll… I’ll be in in a moment.”

He doesn’t wait for Caleb’s response before he bolts upstairs for his room.

And strips to get off the goddamn lingerie.

And forgets to lock the goddamn door.

For a long, long moment, Fjord can feel Caleb just staring at him, neither of them speaking because what the fuck do you say in this situation? _“Hey, this isn’t what it looks like?” “I bet this looks real presumptive, but if you knew how I got here it makes sense?” “I’m not Fjord, I’m a doppleganger sent to embarrass the ever-living hell out of him?”_ Instead, he drops his hands back to his sides, fisting them to stop himself from wringing them or covering himself. Still, he can’t quite force himself to meet Caleb’s gaze, so he finds a friendly looking knot in the floorboards and speaks, “I thought… You didn’t seem interested downstairs, so I…” He trails off because he can’t bring himself to say _“so I panicked and ran away.”_

Caleb lets out a quiet, almost self-depricating huff of laughter and shifts his weight, setting the floorboards creaking. “I may not have caught your meaning until you were shoving gold into my hands. But please, do not mistake my confusion for disinterest.”

Warmth swells low in his stomach, followed quickly by a sudden tightness in his chest. Gods, the emotional whiplash of the last ten minutes is a doozie. He does his best to push aside how foolish he feels and glances up through his lashes. Caleb stands still in the room’s small entryway, gold still clutched awkwardly in his hands, a gentle look of concern twisting his brow. Swallowing thickly, Fjord stands a little taller and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Right,” he whispers, unsure of how to proceed.

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb says, his face flushed a lovely shade of pink as his gaze drifts down to Fjord’s chest before jumping back. “If I might ask, how long has this been…” Trailing off, Caleb gestures vaguely in Fjord’s direction like he can’t find the words either.

Blushing hard, Fjord scrubs a hand up the back of his neck, searching for an explanation that makes a lick of sense. “Not long,” he says. “It’s something Molly suggested, actually. Something to…” _Something to help my confidence._ But the thought of saying it out loud feels ridiculous.

Caleb doesn’t respond, and the silence stretches out in the room between them, sending unease skittering through Fjord’s every limb. Fighting the impulse to rock onto his toes or cover himself, he turns and reaches for his shirt. “Y’know, this is clearly a bad idea. Lemme just put something else on, and we can forget this ever hap—”

Coins clatter against the ground, and gentle hands take his, stalling his motions. Fjord gasps, his head jerking up to find Caleb standing in front of him, his eyes blown wide and his cheeks darkening. Caleb licks his lips and looks up to meet Fjord’s gaze, running his thumbs along the back of Fjord’s hands. “You are beautiful, Fjord. If you feel uncomfortable, by all means change, but do not do so on my account. _Bitte_.”

“‘ _Bitte_?’” 

Ducking his head briefly, Caleb murmurs, “Please.”

And just like that, heat thrums through him, from his fingertips to his toes and everywhere in between. In his admittedly limited experience, he’s never had someone ask him for something like this. Deep in his chest, something writhes, reaching for more, but he tamps it down. _Not now_. Those kind of thoughts are best explored later. Instead, he turns his hands in Caleb’s grip and squeezes back. “I guess I can keep it on a little longer. If you like it.”

“I do,” Caleb says, meeting his gaze once more. He lifts one hand and reaches for Fjord’s hip, stopping just shy of contact. “May I?”

Throat thick with want, he swallows hard. “I’m a man,” he blurts out because he can’t figure out a smoother way to say it.

Caleb grins, the corner of his mouth quirking higher. “I am aware. I have seen you before. Just as you’ve seen me.”

Right, all the way back in Zadash. Gods, that feels like a lifetime ago. “Okay, I just… needed to say it. Especially with…” He gestures at the finery. “…all this.” Blowing out a ragged breath, he nods. “Okay, we’re good.”

Nodding in turn, Caleb lets his hand fall to Fjord’s hip, stroking over the fabric and skin with his thumb, his eyes fixed on Fjord’s face, searching for the slightest sign of discomfort. Fjord leans into the gentle pressure, swallowing hard to silence the rumble growing in his chest, and lets his eyes close. Lets himself enjoy the simple touch and the warm haze it inspires in him. After a moment, Caleb adds, “If it must come off, I would like the privilege of doing so. Until then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to admire you in it a bit longer.”

A moan spills out of him before Fjord can silence it. He bites his lip, his gaze darting away from Caleb’s. _Gods, what must he think of me now?_ But Caleb only takes one of Fjord’s hands and presses it to his waist. Caleb shifts closer, his free hand coming up to cup Fjord’s cheek. Fjord nuzzles into the pressure, hoping the gesture conveys even a fraction of his desire.

Humming, Caleb drags a thumb along Fjord’s cheekbone. “Would you like that, Fjord? To be admired?”

Chest constricting around another moan, Fjord nods. “Please.” 

Caleb kisses him, a quick press of lips against his, and gently guides him back until his legs hit the bed frame, pressing forward until Fjord is laid out against the mattress. Caleb climbs on top of him, straddling Fjord’s hips and trailing his hands down Fjord’s chest. “ _Meine Gott_ , Fjord. You have no idea how beautiful you are.”

Fjord blushes, wishing he had somewhere to hide from all the earnestness in Caleb’s eyes. “It’s a miracle what something pretty will do for you,” he says, leaning up to distract Caleb with more kisses.

But Caleb draws back, giving Fjord a stern look. “The lingerie is lovely, _ja_ , but made far lovelier by the man wearing it.”

His breath sticks in his chest. He’s been called all manner of things over the course of his life, described every which way imaginable, but no one’s called him “lovely” before. Or “beautiful.” But those words stick deep into his chest, prying open some long-sealed part of himself and baring it to the words. He props himself up on his hands, pressing his forehead to Caleb’s. “Would you say it again?” he drawls. “Please.”

Gasping softly, Caleb slides one hand to the nape of Fjord’s neck, pulling him in closer, so close only Caleb’s clothes separate them. His eyes are steady and full of warmth, gazing at him like Fjord’s something worth treasuring. Something worth wanting. Someone worthy. “You are gorgeous, Fjord. Made up so pretty for me. And I think you’ll be even prettier when I make you come.”

He whines low in his throat, and a moment later, Caleb’s lips are on him. Caleb kisses him, and Fjord’s cry twists in his chest, needy and wanting as he claws at Caleb’s shoulders and back and pulls him closer. He drops backwards flat on the mattress, holds Caleb tight against him, and kisses back with more fervor. 

Caleb chuckles, leaning back just a few inches to cup Fjord’s jaw and stroke his cheek. Those lovely blue eyes gaze down on him, softer than Fjord has ever seen them before. “ _Schatz_ , your eyes are so wide, so dark with your desire. And your blush is lovely.”

Biting his lip against a whine, Fjord tries to duck his head, but Caleb holds firm and keeps his head tilted up. “Please, Fjord, do not hide from me. Do not hide your pretty eyes.”

His gut clenches, his heart swelling with warmth and affection. Unbidden, something rumbles in his chest, deep and resonant.

Caleb gasps, his eyes going wide, his grip slipping from Fjord’s cheek. “…Fjord, are you… purring?”

“I….” His face burns, but he nods shallowly, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from ducking again. “Maybe? I haven’t in… I don’t know if I ever really have.” _Never had a reason to._

A brilliant smile spreads across Caleb’s face, excitement and curiosity bright behind his eyes. But before Fjord can think, Caleb is crouched over him again, cradling his head in both hands and kissing him, his body a pleasant pressure against Fjord’s nearly-bare chest. And in no time at all, between all the tender touches, Fjord purrs again, a meek little rumble that grows and grows. Caleb clutches him more tightly, his hips rolling down against Fjord, hot and rough and real. Fjord can’t help but touch, his hands trailing up Caleb’s flanks, over the worn fabric of his trousers. 

Right, because Caleb is still fully clothed, and Fjord is only this skimpy, satin lingerie.

His hands move to the hem of Caleb’s shirt, pushing underneath and splaying across Caleb’s naked back. “You’re overdressed.”

Huffing quietly, Caleb kisses down to Fjord’s neck, lavishing him with attention. “Can you blame me for being distracted? When all I want to do is touch every part of you?” Caleb shimmies down Fjord, kissing down the swell of his chest and nosing along the cups of the bra. “Is that alright, Fjord? If I touch every part of you?”

Fjord gasps, his hips bucking up into nothing as want swells in him. Oh how he wants, but… this is something he doesn’t have much experience with. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s had sex, and the number of times he has _wanted_ has been even less. Deep inside his chest, uncertainty rears its ugly head, but he breathes through it, flushed and flustered as he replies, “Maybe not my chest. Some days I don’t mind being touched there, but….”

“Of course,” Caleb says, pressing a quick kiss to Fjord’s sternum before pulling back fully. For a moment, Fjord winces, preparing for the worst, but Caleb’s face is soft, kind as he reaches to cup Fjord’s cheek. “Anything else you would like or dislike?”

He presses a kiss to Caleb’s palm and shakes his head. “I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Good. Now, lay back and relax for me,” Caleb says, shuffling down over Fjord’s torso, stooping to kiss down his stomach and drag his lips along the waistline of Fjord’s panties. “Would you like me to touch you down here?”

Breath caught in his chest, he nods urgently. “Please.”

Humming contentedly, Caleb settles between Fjord’s legs, hands trailing over Fjord’s thighs and kissing along the satin. Fjord sighs, letting his weight fall heavily on the mattress. Lets himself relax as Caleb works. He doesn’t know how long that will last, but he’ll take every second he can get.

“You smell so good, _Barchen_ ,” Caleb says, mouthing along the bones of Fjord’s hips, his nails rasping down Fjord’s thighs. “Are you wet for me?”

Fjord bites back a whine and nods again, spreading his legs a little wider and arching upward.

With a quick nibble, Caleb sinks further down the bed, nosing along Fjord’s center, a tease of pleasure. He breathes deep and sighs. “Already making a mess in your fine underthings.”

“You can take ‘em off,” he murmurs, torn between wanting Caleb against his naked skin and the tease of only satin separating them. 

Caleb makes a soft sound of consideration. “I could, if you’d like. Or we could see how big a mess we could make of you.”

He moans outright, unable to stop the sound from bursting out of him. He bucks instinctively, seeking out pressure and friction where he wants it most, but Caleb pulls just beyond his reach, those blue eyes wide and dark with lust. Fjord whimpers, grinding up into nothing, pleading. “Whatever you want, Cay. Just touch me.”

Humming his assent, Caleb pushes Fjord’s thighs open wider and licks up the seam of the panties. Over and over until they’re drenched and clinging to him, cock to slit. Fjord gasps, squirming at the unrelenting sensation. Every little twitch of his hips sends a flicker of pleasure through him. And he’s a grown-ass man, he’s touched himself plenty over the years, but this is different. All-encompassing. Overwhelming. Then Caleb seals his lips around Fjord’s cock and sucks, and Fjord arches off the bed, utterly lost. Floating. Flying. Bliss writhing beneath his skin while Caleb busies himself between Fjord’s legs, eyes closed tight in concentration as he pushes Fjord higher and higher. 

“Cay,” he gasps, breathless and eager for every little touch. When Caleb glances up at him, brow arched in question but otherwise showing no sign of stopping, Fjord whines. “Wanna feel you in me. Please.”

Caleb groans in response, pulling back just enough to ease the panties to the side before diving back in. Only this time, there’s nothing to separate them or dull the sensation. Every suck is tighter, every lick sweeter, and he can’t get enough. He reaches down and cradles the back of Caleb’s head, needing something to tether him to the present. And between one breath and the next, there’s something pressing at his entrance, sinking deep into him and hooking upward. Circling something inside him that makes stars burns behind his eyes. Caleb hums against him, suckling at him, and Fjord comes. Hard. He clenches down on Caleb’s fingers, hips rolling down as he rides out the sensation and goes slack against the bed, spent and purring. 

After a moment of quiet, Caleb presses one last kiss to his cock and looks up at Fjord. His face is flushed, and his eyes are dark, and his mouth and chin are a mess. Fjord’s hand clenches in his hair, tugging gently until Caleb leans up and kisses him. Soft and sweet, but Fjord can taste himself on Caleb’s tongue. He shivers, clenching again and surprised to still feel Caleb’s fingers inside him. Another spark of pleasure jolts through him. When they part for air, Caleb asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he replies, his cheeks warming as his purr rumbles louder once more. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time.”

Caleb smiles, his entire face lighting up and something constricts in Fjord’s chest. With his free hand, he cups Fjord’s head, his thumb tracing one of Fjord’s ears, his nails scratching along Fjord’s scalp. Fjord lets his eyes fall closed and leans into the sensation, enjoys the scritches until he feels Caleb withdraw his fingers. He starts to whine at the loss, but he opens his eyes just in time to see Caleb press them into his own mouth, sucking Fjord’s spend from them with a quiet groan. Right, because he was so lost in his own pleasure that he hardly had a chance to make Caleb feel good. 

Despite the haze shrouding his mind, Fjord blinks back to consciousness and runs a hand down Caleb’s clothed back. “You’re still overdressed,” he says, hands moving to the hem. “Mind if I help?”

Caleb sputters, his blush darkening before he replies quietly, “You do not have to, Fjord. I do not want to interrupt your afterglow.”

He frowns, pressing his palm against Caleb’s spine and pulling him closer. Carefully, he presses one of his legs between Caleb’s and hikes it up until he’s pressed flush to Caleb’s groin. Caleb bites his lip as his hips stutter forward, grinding into the pressure before he can stop himself. When he tries to pull back, Fjord holds him in place. “I want to make you feel good too, Cay. Wanna touch you and taste you. Wanna feel you shiver in my arms. Please," he whispers, too many unspoken emotions quivering behind every word.

Blushing bright, Caleb ducks his head and averts his gaze. “If you are certain.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Fjord takes Caleb’s hips in his hands and surges up to kiss him. His limbs shake a little under him, but he resolves to stay upright. To keep hold of Caleb and pour every ounce of affection he has back into him. And Caleb clings to him and grinds against him and sighs so prettily Fjord just wants to lay back and watch. 

When they part for breath, Caleb cups his face and nuzzles against Fjord. "How would you like me, Fjord?" He asks, his previous command now softened and smoothed over. 

Groaning low in his throat, Fjord palms Caleb's hips, kneading in with his fingertips. With his orgasm still warm in his veins, he feels more certain and self-assured. More prepared to ask for what he wants. And oh, how he has wanted this. Still, he tucks his chin to his chest to hide his burning cheeks and murmurs, "If it's alright by you, I'd like to have you over me. Wanna feel you come undone on my tongue."

Caleb's breath catches. " _Ja_ , who am I to say no to such an offer?" His voice is thick and warm and rough, and Fjord could swim in it. Caleb trails a hand down Fjord's chest, skimming along the waist of the panties. "Would you be comfortable enough to keep these on a little longer?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

Caleb grins weakly, carefully righting the underwear. Fjord stifles a wince as the cold, damp fabric presses tight against his still sensitive flesh; its overwhelming, but that fits the rest of the evening well enough. He shifts a little until they slip into a more comfortable position, his hands making quick work of Caleb's clothes and seeking out every inch of skin he can reach. Caleb’s torso is lean, lanky, but not as skinny as he was months ago, starting to fill out now that he's getting regular meals. Twin crescent lines cut under his pecs, and Fjord runs his thumbs along them instinctively, a little enviously. If he hadn't already said he wanted Caleb to ride his face, he'd be tempted to sit up and press kisses to the scars, to span his hands over Caleb's waist and cradle him close and kiss him until both of them forget there’s a world beyond the bedroom door. _Maybe next time_ , he considers, for the first time daring to dream that there could be a next time. 

Once he's stripped to his skin, Fjord supports Caleb by the small of his back, helping him move up the bed. He braces for Caleb to shift around so he's facing the long line of Fjord's body--after all, Caleb clearly enjoyed the finery enough to ask him to keep it on a little longer, so why wouldn’t he want to look at it while Fjord goes down on him--but instead, Caleb stays facing forward, kneeling over Fjord's face and tucking his legs under Fjord's shoulders. He reaches down and cups Fjord's cheek once more. "Right there, _Barchen_. I want to savor you a bit longer."

His heart leaps in his throat, too many emotions swarming through him, but Fjord nods and pulls Caleb closer, murmuring his assent into Caleb's thighs.

With a breathless sigh, Caleb sinks down over him, his legs warm as they press in around his head. Fjord does his best to emulate what has felt the best the few times partners have gone down on him. Gentle suckles and teasing licks. His hands curl up the back of Caleb's legs, palming and cupping his ass and squeezing the cheeks. Caleb groans and bucks down into him. " _Ja, ja, das ist gut_." 

A purr rumbles through him at the quiet praise, and he pulls Caleb down against him. He groans at the warm tang against his tongue, lapping across Caleb’s folds. Caleb sighs softly, rolling his hips down to meet Fjord’s tongue. When he blinks up, Caleb’s bright eyes are fixed on him, wide and dark with pleasure. Heat jolts through him, welling up in his groin once again. Instead of slipping a hand between his legs, he holds tight to Caleb’s ass, digging in his fingertips until Caleb bucks and moans. Doubling his efforts.

“Fjord,” he whimpers raggedly as that pretty flush spreads down his chest. “Fjord, _bitte_.”

He starts to push Caleb up by his hips and ask what he wants, but Caleb’s thighs clamp around his ears, holding him in place. “No, please,” Caleb pants, one of his hands slipping into Fjord’s hair and holding firm. “Let me feel you in me. Please.”

Groaning, Fjord hums an affirmative and licks into Caleb, his tongue pressing in deep. Caleb cries out, fisting his hand in Fjord’s hair and clinging to him. His jaw aches, but for the life of him, Fjord can’t bring himself to care. He’d endure a thousand times worse if it coaxed more of those noises out of Caleb. Especially when his hands clench on Caleb’s cheeks and he keens. 

“ _Scheisse,_ Fjord,” he pants, rocking down with half-aborted thrusts, rolling his hips back and spreading his legs wide. “ _Please_.”

... _Does he want…_ As soon as the idea flits through his mind, Fjord spreads his hands a little wider, the tip of one finger pressing between Caleb’s cheeks and trailing over his hole, already damp with his own slick. Above him, Caleb moans, long and loud, canting his hips back fully and grinding in open want. Fjord groans in turn, in that moment immensely thankful he’s taken to keeping his claws filed, and carefully presses in. 

Things move quickly after that. In no time at all, he feels Caleb clench and shudder around him, pleasure rippling through him and rushing out in a powerful wave. Fjord keens, working him through his release and teasing him through the aftershocks. As Caleb goes loose-limbed and limp above him, Fjord licks him clean and lays him out on the mattress, moving in to snuggle against his side, the blankets pulled up over both of them. Caleb hums contentedly and pulls Fjord into his arms, his purring a slow and lazy counterpoint. After a few minutes of silence, Caleb murmurs, “Your purring is nice. Soothing.” He snuggles into Fjord’s side, kissing his chest. “I like it.”

Fjord preens, rumbling louder and louder. “Everything you hoped it would be?”

Caleb chuckles. “I’m a clever man, but I do not think I could have imagined this.” He goes quiet for a moment before adding. “If you are not opposed, I would like to do this again. Maybe.”

Heart leaping in his chest, Fjord forces a quiet laugh, hoping it comes out casual. “I’m not opposed, but I gotta warn you. This,” he says, gesturing to the lingerie. “I only have the one set. If that’s a deal breaker.”

“I like you, Fjord,” Caleb says, nuzzling into Fjord’s shoulder and holding him a little more firmly. “In your armor, or in plain clothes, or in nothing at all. But if this is the sort of thing that interests you…” He trails off, running a hand down Fjord’s side, down his hip, along his thigh. “You would look lovely in stockings.”

Grinning, Fjord glances over at the corner where he stashed the Bag of Holding. But he says nothing, just holds Caleb close and relishes the Caleb’s weight against his side and lets himself rest. _Next time._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and concrit welcome! <3<3<3


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